


Starlight and Sunshine

by StarlightOnInk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetalia, Human AU, M/M, RusAme, RusAme Secret Santa 2014, astronomer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/StarlightOnInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amidst all that makes us different, each person who walks this earth stands beneath the same sky, and is a witness to the great majesty of our universe. For Alfred Jones and Ivan Braginsky, worlds apart may describe their backgrounds, but in the end we are all beautiful products of stardust, a fact they shall soon realize. Astronomer!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlight and Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MapleTreeway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleTreeway/gifts).



> This was a giftfic for bubblegum-beach on tumblr for the RusAme Secret Santa 2014 exchange! The prompt was for Astronaut!AU with rivalry blossoming into something more… (worded much better)

_“The atoms of our bodies are traceable to stars that manufactured them in their cores and exploded these enriched ingredients across our galaxy, billions of years ago. For this reason…we are atomically connected to all atoms in the universe. We are not figuratively, but literally stardust…”_

**Part I Countdown**

To anyone else, the steady pitter-patter of the raindrops on the sidewalk, buildings, and unfortunate pedestrians would be unwelcomed because of the dreary appearance and irksome wetness it guaranteed. But to Alfred, a rainy day was met with dislike simply because it meant the night sky would not be visible to him. Fortunately, the natural wonders of what lay beyond their planet’s vibrant blue roof were easily explored with his line of work.

 

Interstellar was perhaps the most involved, yet little-known company to have operated in the states. From putting together presentations at planetariums, study leaflets for schools, footage for shows, and research for planetary movements, they had the proverbial hand in many proverbial pies. Theirs was a staff as motley as its responsibilities, but it would be incorrect to call their organization redundant- or to belittle it in any way. Its current head, Arthur Kirkland, was a blunt fellow upon first meeting him, but joining Interstellar and becoming integrated into its inner workings revealed how he thoroughly embraced the concept of a familial workspace. Not a single birthday went uncelebrated among the staff, dates of notable scientific achievements meant everything they did that day would be themed around the topic, and informal meetings were frequently held to allow everyone to share their ideas for the company.

 

Alfred loved every second of it.

 

“Good morning, Alfred,” his boss greeted with a quick nod before turning to his paperwork, thick eyebrows creased in mingled amusement and concentration. The ornate grandfather clock Arthur insisted on having imported from Britain announced the time as 9:15, Alfred’s usual time of arrival. Alfred returned the greeting with a wave of the hand, sliding out of his rain-soaked coat and snapping it out, sending little droplets splattering across Arthur’s papers.

 

“Really now,” Arthur scoffed, pulling his work from harm’s way.

 

“Sorry, boss,” Alfred said with a chortle. “Hey, what’re you doing out here anyway?” It was unusual for Arthur to be out front. Sure, there was usually memos to collect, but so early in the work day seemed a bit strange.

 

“Hmm?” his boss replied distractedly, green eyes flicking across the pages. “Oh, just looking through some of the paperwork our new member brought with him.”

 

Alfred’s ears perked upward. “New member?” he asked warmly. It was always nice for someone else to be deemed enthusiastic enough when it came to space to become a new employee. “Forgot to bring that up at the last meeting, huh?”

 

“It was last minute, really,” Arthur explained, stacking the paperwork into a neat pile and tucking it under his arm. He rose from his seat behind the front counter, eyes flicking to a spot somewhere around the corner. “And the whole process has been pretty involved. I almost didn’t think it would ever be finished.”

 

Alfred stepped forward, eyes following the path of Arthur’s gaze. Striding down the hall was one of the tallest people Alfred had ever seen before. Not just tall, either. _Big_. Wide shoulders framed a chest whose muscles were visible even under the neatly pressed suit and violet tie, its shade nearly identical to his eyes, which blinked curiously over at Alfred beneath a fringe of beige-blonde hair. His gait was that of one groomed from the beginning for professionalism, his arm rising almost mechanically to shake Alfred’s hand. Just above the polite smile gently gracing his features, an overlarge nose protruded, both round and coarse at once. Alfred grasped the hand extended to him, the skin beneath his grasp cool to the touch, the palm rough in contrast to the silky texture of the back of his hand. The stranger grasped his own hand firmly, in a maneuver meant to set an impression; Alfred quickly returned the favor, enjoying an unexplainable moment of relish as he saw those violet eyes widen a fraction in surprise as the fingers tightened. And then he swore he saw the stranger’s smile grow. He met Alfred’s sapphire gaze without any hesitation, a challenge written deep within those violet pools.

 

“Alfred, this is Ivan Braginsky. He just came here all the way from Moscow,” Arthur cut in unassumingly, breaking their improvised staring contest.

 

Alfred let out a low whistle. “Moscow, huh? You must be burning up in this good ol’ American weather, huh?”

 

“Not really,” this _Ivan_ replied with a roll of the R. “It can be quite stifling in the summers, actually. Everyone always assumes Russia is just a snowy field with Red Square somewhere in it.”

 

“Well, that’s kinda how it is in the movies,” Alfred countered, backtracking clumsily. If this was going to be a new member of the family, he wanted things to go smoothly for everyone.

 

Ivan gave a noncommittal hum, eyes darting over to Arthur.

 

“Well, I quite look forward to Interstellar being so branched out. Ivan will be helping us establish a branch in Moscow, hopefully forging some relations with _their_ space program.”

 

“Roscosmos,” Ivan said, his thick chest swelling with pride. The phone rang, sending Arthur hurrying over to answer.

 

Alfred chuckled. “Aw, cool. You guys can get some help from good ol’ NASA.”

 

Ivan peered down his sizable nose at Alfred, his previous contentedness withering slightly. “We have actually been getting on fine without such assistance. If you look back, it was the Russian space program that made the first great leaps in space exploration first.”

 

Alfred waved a dismissive hand, not ready for a second to let the comment slide. “Okay, you got a satellite up when no one gave the official start signal,” he said lazily. “But the US got to the moon first-”

 

“Russian space program saw first man and first woman into space,” Ivan countered testily, dropping his articles in his irritation. “And landed a space craft on moon first,”

 

“I’m sure that’s what they taught you!” Alfred replied, voice rising slightly. Okay, welcoming a new employee was all fine and well, but he could not let this slight slide. This poor guy was probably still in school when the brainwashing educational system was still able to fill his head with misinformation.

 

Ivan bristled. “Excuse me?” he hissed. He took a deep breath, eyes closed as he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep breath before continuing, the hint of his old formality back in place, “If you did some research, you will find that many sources outside of Russia acknowledge this as fact. It is called Luna 2, and though no man walked onto the moon, it did land on it.”

 

“I do believe it crash-landed,” Arthur said, strolling back from his call. “But, the man does have a point, Alfred,” he added, causing Alfred’s jaw to drop before he huffed, arms folded, glaring daggers at the opposite wall. It was Arthur’s turn to roll his eyes. “That was your old supervisor,” he said, turning to Ivan, who by now had completely recovered his previous professionalism, his entire demeanor shifting as easily as putting on a mask. “He just asked if we could schedule weekly conferences over Skype, and to work on selecting anyone we might want to send over there.”

 

“Excellent,” Ivan said delightedly. “I look forward to this partnership.” Alfred, cranky and forming a list of jabs to toss at Ivan as soon as the moment presented itself, could not deny the look of genuine excitement that sent Ivan’s eyes alight. Alfred’s own eyes narrowed.

 

This would be interesting.

\---

 

“I don’t think he’ll really fit in around here,” Alfred said tersely, lounging in a chair, his feet propped up on the desk of Arthur Kirkland’s official office. An hour had passed since the awkward introduction between himself and that _Ee-vahn_ person. And already he knew it would be as wrong a match as an incorrect puzzle piece. Sure, their stubborn attitudes did not help. Alfred had not-so-tactfully asked the Russian why he had a girl’s name (then insisting on using the more Western pronunciation _Eye-van_ when he spelt it out for him), and Ivan had questioned his dedication to Interstellar because he arrived fifteen minutes late.

 

“Dude, it’s fine- I come in that time _every_ day,” Alfred explained dryly. Then, unable to help himself, he added “You’d know that after being here longer.”

 

It was a low blow to bring up just how new Ivan was to this company, but really, Alfred felt he should at least remind the man that were would be things that might seem off that were actually perfectly normal for Interstellar. Ivan had not seemed impressed.

 

“He comes highly recommended, Alfred,” Arthur explained, attempting a placating tone. “A graduate from Moscow State University’s schools of Physics and Technology and International Relations- even has a degree from the St. Petersburg School of Optics. He’ll have no trouble manning our equipment and using it to help us gather more information- for ourselves and any others wanting to know about space. And isn’t that what we’re all about?”

 

“But he’s so _stiff_!” Alfred said almost imploringly, arms spread wide as if to emphasize his point. He crossed one leg over the other, the heels of his sneakers rubbing against the polished desk.

 

“So am I, really,” Arthur admitted. Alfred blinked, surprised by the seemingly incorrect confession. “Well, I let you all bond and be close because it works for here. But I want us to be taken seriously and I won’t tolerate anything that might jeopardize that.”

 

Alfred rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, okay, but you’ve nev-”

 

At that moment, the door opened slightly and Ivan poked his head in, saying “Excuse me, _Gospodin_ Kirkland, I have an article you might be-”

 

He fell silent as his eyes took in the sight of Alfred leaning back on his chair using Arthur’s impressive (also imported) mahogany desk as a footrest, and Alfred knew the image of him as a stereotypical sloppy American was forever solidified in Ivan’s mind. “ _Prosti_ ,” Ivan said softly, eyes flicking back to Arthur. “Excuse me,” he added in translation.

 

“Not a problem,” his new boss said impatiently, ushering him in. Alfred slowly lowered his legs to the floor, knowing the damage was done. “Alfred and I would love to see it,” he insisted, seeing but ignoring the _Speak for yourself!_ glare that was sent his way.

 

It turned out to be an article on informative TV programs covering the workings of the galaxy aired in Russia. Ivan, for his part, seemed once again genuinely enthused, though his statements always seemed to drift off, almost wonderingly when discussing viewing rates and the like. Knowing the whole thing would be impossible to understand, Alfred just nodded robotically, tuning out the conversation in favor of reminiscing the times when he would be off doing his own thing at work, rather than listening to the new guy rattle on about stuff overseas. The fact was, the whole arrangement seemed so...temporary. The introduction made it seem as though Ivan was here only to establish ties, act as a liaison. So why bother with all this involvement? Apparently, he _would_ be involved, though… But why could it not just be restricted to public relations with Ros…whatever?

**Part II Liftoff**

 

In terms of relating to the public of the workspace, Ivan soon found himself in that uncomfortable position anyone new to an established environment finds themselves in. Everyone else was comfortably situated with their own little niche, leaving any extra places for newcomers seemingly nonexistent. He took it in good stride- or so anyone at Interstellar was led to believe. He addressed every situation with a smile, flitting around and introducing himself, gently insisting on observing their daily activities, assured with the backings of Mister Kirkland, whose policy of a familial workplace encouraged such actions.

 

Oddly enough, Francis seemed to take Ivan under his wing quite readily, and Ivan made no complaints. Alfred observed, not even bothering to hide a glower that seemed to generate its own storm cloud, as Francis, their master of advertising, threw his arm around Ivan’s shoulder and guided him through his workstation, gushing about how excited he was to have him- _psh, he didn’t even know he’d be here until today_ \- and how great a contribution he would be- _as long as he keeps his oversized nose out of my business_.

 

“Oh, really, tomorrow I must show you my scrapbook. You’re a cultured man, you’d love it!”

 

Alfred’s eyes grew in danger of being permanently lodged up into his head from how many times he rolled his eyes. Francis’s infamous scrapbook was essentially a small monument depicting all the places he had travelled during his elegant lifestyle. Supposedly he was determined to have a photograph from every country in the world.

 

Things proceeded in much the same manner for the next few days. Ivan would be agonizingly punctual and professional. He would follow Francis along like a duckling, trying in earnest to learn the ropes. He would make important calls- both domestic, and overseas. Then he would report the results to Arthur, who whose brow would furrow in thought before he gave a nod of approval. Unfortunately for Alfred, Arthur seemed determined to make Alfred be a part of Ivan’s integration into Interstellar. He would call Alfred over to instruct Ivan of how their pamphlets would be laid out, or who to contact about upcoming programs, how to schedule appointments at the planetarium, and how to make updates about celestial events that the public could view, such as the latest meteor shower.

 

“So then you click Add Announcement,” Alfred explained stiffly one day, Ivan giving a short nod in understanding. “Then you got to make sure you click the bubble that says Public, otherwise it won’t show up on the main website.”

 

“I see, thank you.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

There was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of Ivan’s pencil scribbling down information in the notebook he brought with him every day. Alfred felt an inexplicable churn of the stomach when he looked down and found it all written in Cyrillic. Another roll of the eyes.

 

“And then you just give all the basic info- what is it, where is it happening- for this one, put down that people on the mountain will be able to see it best. And for how long, all that jazz. Got that?”

 

“ _Da_ , I think I can handle that,” Ivan said, unable to hide the faintest hint of sarcasm.

 

“We’ll see,” Alfred goaded, ever one for a challenge. He straightened, making his way to the door.

 

“Alfred,” Ivan said, not turning from the computer. Alfred spun round. “I appreciate that having to spend time with me is obviously highly unpleasant to you,” Ivan said, turning in his chair at last. “But to make such a blatant display of it is quite unbecoming. I doubt people would take kindly to knowing Interstellar is not as positive as it seems.”

 

At this, Alfred felt himself bristle. “Don’t you talk about this group, alright? You’ve barely been here, and you’ve been all set on controlling everything. What we do _works_ , man. So just hang back and go with the flow,” he added, trying to amend his previous outburst.

 

Ivan’s pale eyebrows inched closer to his hairline, violet eyes widened. Then a slow smirk spread across his face. “I see,” he said, not elaborating any further. He turned back to his computer. “Thank you for your time, _Alfred_.” The name was said with such mock-cheerfulness, the very air seemed to curdle. Alfred turned on his heel and left, using every bit of his will power to not stomp his feet in indignation.

 

Things did not improve for their relationship the next day either.

 

“Ah, Alfred, good to see you so early!” Ivan exclaimed as the door opened and he saw a head of wheat blond hair, glasses flicking in the fluorescent lighting. Seeing him take up such a responsible track, Ivan assumed perhaps their talk had gotten through to Alfred- although he did not really say anything _specifically_ about how unprofessional he thought Alfred was being, perhaps it made the man rethink his actions as a whole? Ivan strode over, a hand extended in good feeling, ready to shake and start anew. “I am glad you are taking this seriously, truly. I came here truly eager for the opportunity to work for such a dedicated group, and I merely want to see it do we-”

 

“Uh, I-I’m sorry, but I’m not Alfred…”

 

Ivan blinked. As his eyes opened once more, it was as if a filter had been lifted, and he could see more plainly now how the hair had a waive to it not present in Alfred’s, how the eyes were tinted more of an indigo, how this man seemed more comfortable keeping to himself, how this _definitely_ was not Alfred…

 

Alfred strolled in with all the confidence in the world at around 9:15. When he arrived, it was to find a rumpled Mr. Kirkland tapping his polished shoe on the wood floor, emerald eyes throwing a glance down at his watch.

 

“Alfred, you need to manage your time better. If it says we start at 9, all employees should really be here at 9.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Alfred blurted out before he could stop himself. Arthur raised an oversized eyebrow at him.

 

“No, I’m not. Ivan and I have talked and he told me about how, when forming partnerships, our potential partners will be looking at this sort of thing. If they feel we’re anything less than completely serious and dedicated, they won’t take us on.”

 

Alfred opened his mouth. Closed it. This sequence of events repeated itself two more times before he finally got out, “But- are you- why- who _cares_? We don’t need them, we’ve been doing _fine_ how we are!”

 

“Alfred,” Arthur said in his _watch yourself_ voice. “What we are doing _is_ excellent, I agree completely. And we can only improve from here. When this organization was founded it started small, with big dreams. If we can carry out the dream of genuine space enthusiasts, everyone will be all the better for it. Isn’t that what your idol would want?”

 

A burning sensation overcame the tips of Alfred’s ears, and he hoped the reddening was not evident. Yes, he followed the words of Neil deGrasse Tyson with more vehemence than he did his doctor’s and dentist’s orders to watch his sugar intake. But that was because his words were more beautiful than any classic, words of a magnificent vision borne from pure enthusiasm and a desire to spread such a wonderful knowledge and passion to others. When Alfred heard that man’s words, he was reminded of just how amazing the universe was, just how magnificent the very existence of _everything_ was, and how much he wanted to know more, more, _more_. To share an interest with someone so skilled at articulating it was an honor he would carry with pride and awe.

 

Arthur’s expression softened, perhaps in understanding. “It’s my job to take into consideration anything that might make that dream a reality,” he said gently, to which Alfred, at last, nodded in acquiescence. With some new vigor, Arthur added, “Listen, I need you to pick up some paperwork. Elizabeta’s doing a presentation at a school next Monday and we need to have the signatures from the school.

 

“Yeah, on it!”

 

The car ride was pleasant enough for the time Alfred was allowed to himself, able to cool down and reflect. Unfortunately for him, his hotheadedness often made cooling down occur only after copious amounts of grumbled fuming.

_Comes in to_ my _office and starts changing_ everything!

_Writing in his little notebook like some model employee, when he’s got_ nothing _on_ me _and all that_ I’ve _done._

_Got that accent that should be cool to listen to, but all he says is annoying garbage._

 

He turned the volume down a bit on these ravings as he entered the building and headed for the main office. The secretary there disappeared behind a back door before returning a few minutes later with a small pile of paperwork. After flipping through each one to ensure all were signed and dated correctly, he thanked her.

 

“Anytime. You know, the kids love these presentations. And I really think it’s not just cause they get to miss class time. Cause this is like a lesson, but they can’t wait to see it.”

 

“That means a lot to hear,” Alfred said in earnest. She nodded enthusiastically.

 

Alfred himself had given some presentations at schools in the past, with footage provided my Interstellar. Each was carefully timed to fit a certain script, so for a period there was not much room for improvising, at least for some portions. Then he would get out the supplementary material that would address any questions the students had- about the space program, other planets, all the milestones in research, where the nearest observatory was, and so on. The space program was a popular topic, and Alfred was all too willing to gush on and on about NASA.

_That newbie would probably just talk about his Rosco- whatever_.

 

He was right.

 

Ivan was assigned to make a small introductory presentation before Elizabeta’s next Monday. He looked a bit drawn, certainly paler than usual, but insisted on taking full advantage of the opportunity. Alfred had driven them there, the two Europeans maintaining polite conversation about current events in Europe and their trying upbringings. Ivan provided personal information when necessary, but otherwise seemed content listening to Hungarian. Deciding to stick around and watch how things would play out, Alfred sat himself down in a foldout metal chair and watched as Ivan shifted the focus just so, including information on the International Space Station, the station in Kazakhstan where supplies was launched from, and all the milestones in space travel made by Russia. With genuine remorse he added that it was a shame that it often felt many such things- achievements by the East and West- were done out of competition rather than genuine scientific curiosity. This provided a transition for Elizabeta’s speech. From there on, she gave them essentially an Astronomy 101 course, asking for volunteers to answer questions or show what they knew. At the end, when it came time to let the students ask questions of their own, almost half were addressed to Ivan regarding international space. As they filed out of the auditorium, Alfred distinctly heard a few students exclaim “I want to be like that cosmonaut!”

 

Back in the car, Ivan did not seem to be feeling any better; a rough cough forced its way past his lips, and he waved off any concern from his female coworker.

 

“You know there is a bug going around,” she insisted, brow knit. “You should rest, that is how it will get better.”

 

” _Nyet_ , it is fine. It will be gone before long.”

 

But it wasn’t. Indeed, the next day, Ivan’s condition had worsened so much that Arthur insisted on no uncertain terms that Ivan take the rest of the day off.

 

“But sir-” he exclaimed, looking more alarmed by the prospect of going home than how his cough sounded and his eyes seemed glazed.

 

“No buts, it won’t kill you to get some time off. You’ve been the first one here and the last one out for weeks. Plus, we don’t want the rest of us getting this, now do we?”

 

Finally looking as miserable as he felt, Ivan consented to having Francis drive him home.

 

“I will be heading that way anyway,” Francis explained, drawing the ailing man close after learning his address and steering him towards the car.

 

Thirty minutes later, as Alfred was gathering some paperwork to be shredded, he caught sight of a wallet and set of keys. _Oh, shoot_. Ivan must have forgotten them. When he told this to Arthur, his boss- much to his dismay- asked him to run them over. Although not remotely thrilled with the task, Alfred couldn’t exactly refuse such a reasonable request. Plus, it beat the filing that seemed to have accumulated without warning from all across the building. And so, with a sigh, he buckled himself in and headed towards the indicated address. Turning a corner, he saw Francis driving back towards Interstellar. They honked in greeting before Alfred pulled away.

 

Pulling up to the indicated house number, Alfred paused. The house was small, but looked comfortable enough- a pleasant creamy yellow covered the façade, speckled with flowerboxes filled with flowers. Alfred retrieved the wallet and keys, considering what he was about to do, before giving in to his curiosity and checking the contents. Ahah! Just as he had hoped, Ivan was the sort of person to have pictures in his wallet. There was one. It depicted Ivan standing beside two attractive women who had the same platinum locks as he, though there eyes were more blue in color. One woman wore her hair short, a little above the chin, and had a warm, motherly smile as each arm lay draped across the two beside her. The other looked like a porcelain doll, with long elegant locks that framed a delicate face that, despite its capacity for sternness, betrayed the happiness she was feeling being with her siblings. Behind them was a man and a woman leaning against each other, smiling happily. The three in the front were a remarkable blend of the two older individuals, who Alfred assumed were Ivan’s parents. Beside the couple was an old man, a reluctant smile showing beneath his greying mustache. All of the older people had a weariness about them that failed to fully dim their joy.

 

Huh…

 

Feeling a slight twinge of guilt for his sudden act, Alfred quickly closed the wallet and hurried out to the front of the house. It was a few seconds after he knocked before the door slid open and Alfred saw the same short-haired woman from the photo peer out at him.

 

“Can I help you?” she said kindly through a thick accent.

 

“Uh,” Alfred began intelligently. “Uh, yeah. Is Ivan there? I work at the same office, and he left his stuff there-”

 

“Oh, did he?” the woman gasped, sparkling blue eyes falling on the items in Alfred’s hand. “Please, come in, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

 

Alfred tried to protest but his efforts were immediately shut down by the woman’s determined hospitality. He was asked to take off his shoes, which he slid off and left on the designated mat. Sliding into the cream-colored slippers he was offered, he traipsed automatically behind the woman, apparently unable to escape her kindness.

 

“You said you work at Vanya’s office? But you are different than the man who just dropped him off! I am sure he really appreciates it. What if I was not home next time he needed to get in, without his keys? Oh, where are my manners, I am Irunya, He will be glad to see you.” She turned suddenly and peered at Alfred, who was shifting from one foot to the other, picking at a loose thread in his jacket. “You must be Alfred! Vanya has told me so much about you!” she exclaimed in dawning recognition.

 

“Uh,” Alfred repeated with renewed eloquence. “He…has?” So, Vanya was Ivan…? How did that work?

 

“Oh yes!” Irunya said, smiling. She turned and set out a delicate tea cup, into which she poured some hot liquid. “He says you know everything about your work, so much you could manage the office.”

 

If it could, Alfred’s jaw would have plummeted to the tile floor. Why on earth would Ivan say those things about _him_? He barely gave him any reason to respect him in public, never mind among the sanctity of his family.

 

“Oh, well, uh, thanks?” he more asked than stated. A knowing look crossed Irunya’s features as she offered him some tea, which he took more out of courtesy than any desire to drink it. Arthur’s obsession with it often developed the reverse feelings in his employees. He took a slip and complimented its taste, which earned him thanks.

 

“Vanya,” Irunya said, heading into the adjoining room. On the couch, beneath a pile of blankets, lay Ivan, looking pale and drawn. “You left your keys at the office. Alfred brought them back for you.”

 

“ _Sh…shto_?” he mumbled confusedly, large nose peeking out through the blankets as he peered around. His insides turned to ice as he saw Alfred standing there like a deer caught in the headlights. Wonderful. He had seen him completely incapacitated and miserable. This would set him back so far at Interstellar, he was sure…

 

“ _Spasibo_. Thank you for helping a friend out,” he said at last. Irunya laid a hand on his forehead, tsked, then hurried back into the kitchen to warm some more soup.

 

“Uh, anytime, man…” Alfred replied weakly, his vocabulary apparently as afflicted as Ivan was feeling. Opting to avoid meeting Ivan’s gaze, Alfred’s eyes flicked around to observe the house. Modest but comfortable furnishing. Cheerful portraits of floral arrangements. A mantel full of family pictures. Pleasant. Cozy.

 

“Well, uh, I should probably get going.”

 

“ _Nyet_ , wait,” Ivan grunted from beneath his covering of blankets, and he actually moved to rise from the couch. Alfred may be unbearable in the workplace, but Ivan would not allow hospitality to not exist within his house. As a Russian host, he was obligated to repay him.

 

“What- no, hey, lay back down, you look like you’re going to pass out!” Alfred said in alarm, his propensity for heroics forcing him to take a step forward, ready to urge Ivan back down if need be.

 

Ivan waved him away impatiently. With a rattling cough, he followed his sister into the kitchen. “You can bring some soup home with you. Is fresh. You will like it.” Hands shaking slightly, he spooned some into a container. Alfred took it uncomprehendingly.

 

“Thanks…” he almost said it as a question.

 

Eager to escape the awkwardness of the whole situation, though unable to deny that the family had been kind to him- Irunya had tried to send him off with some sweet cakes as well- Alfred traipsed back to his car and made a beeline back to Interstellar.

 

Ivan was not back to work the next day, leaving Alfred to focus on his Powerpoint for a planetarium. As he was playing with the nimations and searching through the hard drive for images, Matthew Williams, his doppelganger in appearance- but certainly not personality- popped up.

 

“Ivan’s not here?”

 

“Nah, still sick. He looked pretty bad when I saw him last.”

 

Matthew nodded in understanding. “You know, I think he wants to be friends,” he blurted out.

 

Alfred let out a burst of laughter. “Yeah, right. What on earth would make you think that? In case you haven’t noticed, he thinks I’m an unprofessional idiot.”

 

Matthew’s brow knit. “No he doesn’t. That day you came in late and Mr. Kirkland said no more, he thought I was you-”

 

“Happens a lot.”

 

“And he was being really pleasant, and seemed pleasantly surprised. He wanted to start over, pretty much.

 

“Huh,” Alfred mused, lips pinched together as he rolled this information around in his head.

 

When Ivan returned, he seemed willing to take a try at civility.

 

“I am sorry for fixating on when you punch in,” he said awkwardly, shifting restlessly.

 

“Listen,” Alfred said, determined to be heard. “When I come in late, every day of the work week, it’s because before then, I was making calls or transferring files, or doing research for presentations. I’m doing my work even when I’m not punched in.

 

Ivan’s eyes widened, and he seemed at a loss for words. “I- I apologize. I did not know.”

 

“No, you didn’t,” Alfred agreed.

 

“Mr. Jones, Mr. Braginsky, may I speak with you both for a moment?”

 

They wheeled round to see Mr. Kirkland, his _watch yourself_ expression back in full swing.

**Part III Touchdown**  
  


 

It felt like being called down for detention. There they sat, Ivan pale from nerves and Alfred flushed from discomfort, before the emerald gaze of Mr. Kirkland.

 

“Listen. We are a family here. And as such everyone needs to be able to work seamlessly with everyone.”

 

“We-”

 

“Let me finish. And as such, I have realized I have yet to have you two really work on an assignment together. I should have pursued this sooner, as it is the natural course for all who work for Interstellar. Luckily, something has come up. Neil deGrasse Tyson will be doing a special, and footage and pictures of modern celestial occurrences are needed. We need someone filming and taking pictures. There’s a place south of here that should offer exactly what is needed. And you two are going to do it.”

 

There was no arguing. For all their jumbled protests and weak excuses, Mr. Kirkland became more determined that they should be the ones to complete this task. Together.

 

\---

 

“So, Alfred, since we will be spending significant time together, we should probably know more about each other.”

 

“Don’t we know enough already? We’re taking pictures, not doing one of those abandon-all-technology-and-live-in-the-woods shows.”

 

“Well, I at least think we should even things out a bit. You know I have two sisters, where I live, what bus I take-”

 

“Only cause I dropped off your stuff from work. You didn’t share that!”

 

“Exactly. So now you can take the opportunity to make things fair at last.”

 

This was how their drive had begun. The two bickered and jabbed, neither willing to be the first to relent. At last it was Alfred saying “And hey, I only met one sister,” that made Ivan spill some information.

 

“And unless you travel across the globe you will not meet the other. But I am sure you saw the pictures in my home. Two siblings, Alfred.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, well, that went in a complete circle. So, why do I have to travel abroad to see her?”

 

“She lives there.”

 

“ _You_ live there!”

 

“How mature.”

 

“You’re impossible.”

 

This continued out of the car as they stopped at a diner for lunch. Alfred took one glance at the menu, confirming they had what he wanted, before ordering a burger and chicken fingers. Ivan took more time, nose crinkled in mild frustration, unable to find anything that might not cause his stomach to act up.

 

“They have penne vodka,” Alfred offered helpfully. “You like that, right?”

 

A pale eyebrow rose. “While I do like it, I am curious- why make such an assumption?”

 

“Well, cause it’s got vodka and stuff.”

 

Violet eyes rolled. “Yes, and naturally I guzzle vodka like it is water.”

 

“I knew it!”

 

In the end, Ivan ordered a simple meat dish. They shared a basket of mozzarella sticks while waiting for their main orders, the silence so tense it could be tasted.

 

“Mmmmmm, these taste great!” Alfred exclaimed, apparently finding the atmosphere’s taste great- or perhaps it was the eighth mozzarella stick he had devoured. Ivan bit into his, privately savoring the lovely crunch as hot liquid slid from the crisp exterior.

 

“They are particularly good, yes,” he admitted. “A shame that more people do not know such a small place makes such good food.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“I wonder if Irunya or Natalya would like this,” Ivan mused, patting the corner of his mouth with his napkin.

 

“That your other sister?”

 

“ _Da_.” Ivan’s face fell somewhat. “She and the rest of my family still live abroad. She found a very nice man from Lithuania who treats her like royalty. I am very glad- and they are able to watch over my parents and grandfather.”

 

Alfred’s eyebrows rose in invitation for him to continue. “Your grandfather’s still alive?”

 

Ivan nodded. “ _Da_ , but he is very old. He was a general in the Great Patriotic War. My parents try, but they need to take care of themselves as well.”

 

Alfred nodded in understanding, letting his interest show. “My grandfather was a fighter pilot in World War II!”

 

“Really? So, the skies run in your family then.”

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Alfred chuckled, having had the same thought a few times before. It was nice; suddenly without the air of competition and an environment that made placing and abilities something so easily measured, he and Ivan had a newfound calmness about them that let them speak freely, comfortably. “He passed away, though. Cancer.” He grimaced at the memory.

 

Ivan’s expression softened. “I am sorry,” he said sincerely. “It is hard. But I am sure you were supportive.” Knowing Alfred, he would have put his entire being into caring for him.

 

“Oh yeah,” Alfred assured, smiling sadly. “I’m glad I was there for him.” He suddenly realized, Ivan did not have that luxury. “What about your family? Are you going to go back to them?”

 

Ivan’s brow furrowed and he peered down at his silverware thoughtfully. “Irunya and I were given marvelous opportunities. Irunya is a wonderful event coordinator. And I have been given the chance to build a bridge between the space research of Russia and America. My parents wanted us to be as successful as possible, so when these opportunities came up, they had us come here. We pool our money, and we hope someday to be able to have them all come over here. Natalya is very happy with her work in Minsk, but misses us terribly and will come if the rest of the family does.”

 

Alfred’s eyes widened. “Wow, man, that’s great!” he said enthusiastically. “You’ll have them all over here in no time!”

 

Ivan smiled. “I often wonder what they are doing over there. I am so used to them being around, and being back home, it feels strange to think they won’t be there when I leave the office.”

 

Their meals arrived and they continued chatting pleasantly, Alfred biting eagerly into his burger while Ivan sliced through his meal. Back in their car, they initiated a game of questions, each asking one, receiving an answer, and having to answer it in return. From this, Alfred found out that Ivan was used to the cold but preferred the warmer weather, did not know how to swim, and would do his homework outside where he could see the night sky. Ivan in turn learned that Alfred’s glasses were actually bifocals, he was ambidextrous, and was terrified of ghosts. This one took a little more digging and investigative work, because the American tried to brush it off as a preference to not be where any hauntings might take place.

 

Still not at their final location for getting footage, the two parked outside a rather classy-looking club, from which music could be heard pulsing. Alfred had not missed the way Ivan’s gaze kept flicking to him as they travelled, nor would he be able to honestly deny the smile plastered to his face from their time together. Really, Alfred had to admit to himself, he would be sad when this assignment was done.

 

They sat down at the bar together, their elbows brushing as they ordered drinks. Ivan swore he could feel the warmth of Alfred’s skin through both of their sleeves.

 

From somewhere far off, though it came from all around, Ivan heard the speakers leak out a song of a completely different tempo and mood.

_Fly me to the moon_  
Let me play among the stars  
Let me see what spring is like  
On a-Jupiter and Mars  
  


“Come,” he said, extending his hand for Alfred to take. “We dance!”

 

A blond eyebrow rose. “Uh, and why would we do that?” he asked, chuckling. In lieu of an answer, he was tugged from his seat and onto the floor. Next thing he knew, he was dancing with Ivan Braginsky, who led them through a skillful step.

_In other words, hold my hand  
In other words, baby, kiss me_

 

Not to be outdone, Alfred upped his game, asserting himself in an attempt to lead the dance. The result was a constant shift in who was leading, causing a rather hectic dance that claimed some grace of its own for the power and assurance behind it. Ivan slid his feet gracefully across the floor, guiding Alfred in the proper direction, while Alfred shifted their arms and directed their path. It was nothing compared to what Ivan had envisioned when offering to dance- it was better.

 

“Must you be the best at everything?” Ivan asked, slightly breathless, as they returned to their seats.

 

Alfred slicked his hair back in a would-be charming manner, pointing suavely at Ivan as he replied “It’s a hard burden, but being the best means I can bear it!”

 

Ivan rolled his eyes, fingers strumming against his drink distractedly. He averted his gaze as though Alfred’s smile were blinding, opting instead to gaze distantly ahead of him. “You make it difficult to get close,” he admitted softly. “And I should like to, very much.”

_Where on earth did that come from…?_ Ivan marveled, praying perhaps Alfred would drop it.

 

“Yeah?” He didn’t. “Hey, you’re the one always challenging me, buddy. I’m not about to just let that go without at least trying-”

 

“I wish you could just give it a rest,” Ivan growled, his verbal filter apparently deteriorated. “Because I really think you are a very exceptional person,” he added thickly, the words falling from his mouth against his will. Must have been the alcohol. But…funny…he hadn’t actually touched any. It was just so hard to muster up any more will power, and Alfred really was just so close… “And I just wish…”

_Fill my heart with song_  
And let me sing for ever more  
You are all I long for  
All I worship and adore  
  


 

He felt Alfred move in his seat beside him, could feel those incessant sapphire pools boring in to him, willing him to turn. Slowly, with no small amount of reluctance, he felt his face turn to meet his gaze. “Very exceptional person, huh?” Alfred gave a breathy chuckle, an unfamiliar look lighting up his features. “That’s a lot coming from you, man. You’re a hard guy to impress. But…” Ivan felt a warm hand slide tentatively to his cheek, the touch so frail it was as if he were afraid any sudden movement would break the moment. “I’m really glad to hear you say it, and…” There was barely any space between their lips now. “I’m really glad it’s you with me right now…” Alfred’s lips brushed against his with every word he spoke, before the final stretch was crossed- centimeters, miles, oceans were traversed to lead them to this very moment, a space reserved solely for them, where their lips molded tenderly against each other, where Ivan felt his fingers brush through those golden locks, savoring their silky texture, where Alfred’s gaze flickered to Ivan’s violet gaze, and he learned to see the beauty of stardust and nebulas and starlight in Ivan’s eyes. The world was paused just for them, and those famous shooting stars that were never able to cross paths at last collided with the force of a supernova, the sheer burst of vibrancy to be carried through the cold inky seas for years to come, proof of its occurrence visible far past its retirement from existence. When they pulled apart, so slow, so little space left to traverse, it was with the promise of so many more exchanges, so many moments to be filled with the wonders of humanity, the product of the universe itself, continuing its marvels in its own small ways.

_In other words, please be true_  
In other words, in other words  
I love you

 

Their hands were clasped between them, the blazing sunlight of Alfred’s flesh pressed flush against the elegant starlight of Ivan’s. Ivan gazed fondly down at their joined hands, then back at the summer skies in Alfred’s eyes, unable to hide a smile. Their drinks forgotten, they abandoned the stifling walls of the club and, buckled safely in their car with the heat blasting, made a beeline for an area where the buildings became less dense, where stone grey and unyielding iron made way for lush green and rich brown. A blanket spread beneath them, they lay side by side, their hands clasped once more, while their unoccupied hands pointed this way and that towards the many constellations made visible in the natural light of the rural environment.

 

“Ursa Major,” Ivan murmured, his voice a smooth purr as he indicated the celestial shape twinkling from above. A smile tugged once more at his lips. “The great bear.”

 

“Aquila,” Alfred added, indicating the bird.

 

“The bear and the bird,” Ivan mused, his thumb running gentle circles across Alfred’s fingers. “So very different, but they exist in the same sky. In the same beautiful field of darkness and wonder.”

 

“Yeah,” Alfred breathed. “Bit like people,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he shifted onto Ivan’s shoulder. “If only everyone else could see how great that is…”

 

“ _Da_ …”

 

“Neil deGrasse Tyson does,” Alfred pointed out, smiling.

 

“The man we are getting the footage for?” Ivan clarified.

 

“Yeah. He’s amazing. His words always remind me of how great what we do is. I’d love to let him know. He’s amazing.”

 

“I have heard about him. I was hoping when I came here I might see some of his presentations.”

 

“You haven’t?” Alfred asked, picking his head up to peer down at Ivan. The stars sparkled alluringly in Ivan’s deep purple eyes. “I have, once. But I didn’t get the chance to talk to him. Or get an autograph. Would’ve been out of this world. Heh, out of this world. Cause…space,” he added sleepily, eyelids fluttering beneath the weight of the day’s activities.

 

“Perhaps you shall meet him when we get our images? You can hand them over to him.”

 

“That’s what I’m hoping, actually.” Ivan could feel Alfred’s cheeks warm through his shirt.

 

The rest of the evening was a bleary vision of making their way back to the car, finding a motel to stay in for the evening, and collapsing into bed for some much-needed rest. Alfred’s last thoughts were spent marveling at how things had changed since he had woken up that morning, how they had changed since he first met Ivan. How much they would change…

 

\---

 

“This should be it,” Alfred said jovially as they came upon their ideal location for gathering footage and photographs. It was a rocky clearing overlooking a dense collection of trees that stretched on as the sea stretches from the beach. The sun blazed overhead, but they had come with plenty of water and supplies to create their own shade. It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached there, and an hour later until they got all their equipment set up. Ivan suggested they take a few pictures and record some video of their location before night fell, so they set about doing so, commentating on conditions and coordinates, hearts fluttering with every brush of the hand or bump of the shoulder. They seemed far too frequent to be accidental; a certain awareness hung over them as they found themselves unable and unwilling to escape the events of the evening, the ghost of lips pressed gently against their own still as present as before. They stayed close to the thick rocky wall that provided some shade, both for protection from the sun, and because the ledge facing the trees led to a steep slope that was no doubt as perilous as it looked.

 

The remaining time was spent taking pictures or lounging against the rock wall, sometimes alone, or sometimes they would lean against each other. Ivan’s cheeks would develop a fine dusting, while Alfred grinned sheepishly and shifted restlessly beside him.

 

Night fell and gradually the universe came to life before them. It was everything they could hope for and more. Ivan set up the recorder while Alfred took shot after shot, looking for ideal angles and pleasant composition.

 

That was when it happened.

 

“Alfred, not so far,” Ivan cautioned as Alfred stood recklessly close to the precarious edge.

 

“Dude, this one’s just what he needs for his presentation- we have to make this good!” Alfred insisted, raising the camera. Ivan took a step closer. There was a loud echoing noise that seemed to hang in the air, and Ivan felt his heart drop as he assumed it was the rock giving way beneath Alfred. But it was only the camera. Ivan was allowed a moment’s reprieve before Alfred shifted his weight just so, his foot sliding, leg flailing, trying to find purchase, before it sank through the air, taking Alfred with it.

 

“ALFRED!” Ivan yelled, launching himself forward and reaching out right as Alfred’s frantically waving arm disappeared. He could hear Alfred’s muffled cries fade as he slipped down the rocky slope. Throwing all caution to the wind, Ivan let himself skid down after him, his palms cut on the gravel, shoes scuffed, jacket torn. There lay Alfred in a moaning heap, his arms wrapped protectively around his waist. In a fit of alarm, Ivan thought maybe a sharp edge had caught him in the gut. “Fedya, Fedya!” he said, scrambled over to him. Tenderly prying his arms apart to assess the damage, Ivan felt the world spin as relief hit him and saw he was only protecting the camera.

 

Alfred’s groan of pain brought him back down to earth. “M…my leg, my leg is killing me,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Ivan brought a finger gingerly over to where Alfred was holding, only for Alfred to pull back and groan louder still.

 

“Alright, Alfred, listen, listen to me,” Ivan said, jostling him gently by the shoulders, fearing a concussion. “I am going to carry you, _harasho_? Alright? We need to get you help!”

 

“I. Can. Do. It.” Alfred grunted, chest heaving. “Is. The. Footage. Okay.”

 

Ivan sighed shakily, sliding his arms gingerly beneath Alfred, who roared in pain as he was lifted. “It is fine, _lapushka_ ,” he assured, picking his way through the greenery.

 

“Good…” Alfred took quick pained breaths of air. “I…thank…” His vision darkened at the edges as his leg felt like it was lit ablaze. “You…I…you…” His last conscious thought was of Ivan, of the frantic calls, the arms shaking desperately beneath him, a single warm, salty raindrop hitting his cheek, before all was dark…

 

\---

 

The sterile sounds and scents of the hospital assaulted Alfred’s senses as he slowly came round. His leg was suspended above him in a cast, toes sticking bizarrely out from the thick white shell. But the sight that overrode all of these, was of Ivan sitting beside his bed, his brow looking permanently creased with worry, only for his eyes to alight with unspeakable relief.

 

Next thing he knew, strong arms were wrapped around him and the scent of chamomile and birch blocked out that of cleaner and bleach. “If you ever worry me like that again, I will never speak to you again,” Ivan murmured into Alfred’s wheat colored locks.

 

Alfred smiled. “Deal, big guy. But, did I get the shot?”

 

“He has them. Neil deGrasse Tyson has them.”

 

“What?” Alfred shot up, dislodging Ivan from his embrace, immediately regretting his sudden movement as his leg throbbed. “What happened? Did you meet him? Did you tell him any of what I said? Did you get an autograph?”

 

Ivan’s expression levelled. Alfred felt his heart plummet right through to the floor. “ _Nyet_ , I did not.”

 

“B…but…” Before he could finish, Ivan rose wordlessly and walked through the door. Alfred only had to spend one moment in the unyielding clutches of confused heartache before he returned.

 

And he was not alone.

 

“I figured you could say those things yourself.”

 

Alfred’s jaw once again ran the risk of slamming into the ground as he gazed upon his idol, standing right there, looking at _him_ , praising his dedication and the work he produced, saying it would be an honor to feature it in his presentation.

 

The handshake, the autograph, and most of all the conversations they had were worth more to Alfred than any paycheck, any hospital bill, any potential damage to the equipment. It could only be quantified by the experience of gazing upon the universe in understanding, comprehending that final truth that there would be no final mastery of that great wonder everyone was a part of, was a _product_ of.

 

Much like how Ivan could only measure the worth of Alfred’s joy, excitement, and gratitude in the way his eyes shone with all the power and magnificence of the universe, how sunlight could finally be made in such a human form.

 

And after his idol departed, Alfred gazed at Ivan with a love known only to those who looked from so far apart, from so different an upbringing, upon the same sky and understood that regardless of such differences, all shared the same magnificent beginning, the same miraculous backstory, and were destined to carry it onward through the amazing capacity of humanity to love and grow.

_“…So that when I look up at the night sky and I know that yes, we are part of this universe, we are in this universe, but perhaps more important than both of those facts is that the Universe is in us. When I reflect on that fact, I look up – many people feel small because they’re small and the Universe is big – but I feel big, because my atoms came from those stars. There’s a level of connectivity. That’s really what you want in life, you want to feel connected, you want to feel relevant you want to feel like a participant in the goings on of activities and events around you That’s precisely what we are, just by being alive…”_

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it! Here are some final notes to tie everything up. The quotes from the beginning and end are from Neil deGrasse Tyson, director of the Hayden Planetarium, and renowned astrophysicist. His words are inspirational when it comes to pursuing space research and points out the remarkable benefits, and absence of any negatives for boosting the space program.
> 
> The lyrics are from Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon- totally RusAme’s song, or one of them.
> 
> Himaruya stated that Irunya Chernenko is a name choice of his for Ukraine, so I went with that. It’s so pretty, isn’t it?
> 
> Minsk, where Natalya is living, is the capital of Belarus.
> 
> Roscomos is the agency in charge of the Russian space program. It uses a launch site located of the Baikonur Cosmodrome, in Kazakhstan. Cosmonaut is the Russian equivalent of an astronaut.
> 
> Luna 2 was indeed a Soviet space craft that landed on the moon (or hit it).
> 
> I read that in Russia, business dealings are considered very professional, so punctuality is very important. EDIT: And it seems, according to the recent Hetalia update, that Ivan himself respects punctuality and professionalism, so, this all works out very well in the end, really.


End file.
